


oh, did i mention when i see you it stings like hell?

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-02-28
Updated: 2007-02-28
Packaged: 2018-09-06 10:10:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8746093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: Random. Angsty. End of summary.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).

  
Author's notes: I bet ya'll are real sick of me by now, aren't ya? Too bad though, cuz I looove you guys. Here is another thing from long, long ago. A twist on the pilot. It's short. Bitter. Probably nothing much, but here it is all the same. Reviews=love!  


* * *

_Oh, did I mention when I see you it stings like hell?_

_To the fact that we could have something that'll never happen._

 

Sam’s heart is hammering in his chest now. Looking up at his older brother, smirking at his victory.

 

“Easy tiger,” Dean says, the words rolling of his tongue teasingly.

 

It’s been so long since he’s seen him, since he’s heard his voice. And he knows that it’s more his fault then anyone’s. Even if Dad had told him leaving meant never coming back, that didn’t mean he couldn’t talk to Dean. Couldn’t try to get to him.

 

As much as he loved his brother, he hadn’t had the strength to do it. If he saw Dean, saw that hurt look and accusing eyes asking why he left him, why he left without a goodbye, he’d be a goner. He’d be more than willing to hop right into the Impala and follow his brother all over God’s green Earth, no matter where or what.

 

But that couldn’t happen, not then and not now.

 

He quickly reverses their positions, pinning Dean beneath him. God that was a bad idea he thinks as warmth and desire rage through his body. It’s been so long since he’s felt Dean’s touch, his warm strong hands. The sweet pressure of his body. Years. Too many years.

 

Sam stares down at his brother unable to breathe. He wants so badly to close the distance between them. To crush his mouth to his older brother’s with such violence he’d be feeling it for days, weeks if he could make it so. But he couldn’t do that. This was his _brother_ and as much as Dean loved him there were some things he would never do, not even for Sammy.

 

xXx

 

Sammy’s wrong about this. He doesn’t know it, but Dean would do _anything_ for him. And that means anything, including the thing Sam is thinking about.

 

The same thing Dean is thinking about.

 

His eyes fall to Sam’s lips, then flicker quickly back up to his eyes. He can’t let him know what he’s thinking. That wasn’t what he came here for in the first place. He came because Dad’s missing, because he need’s his baby brother’s help.

 

Not because he’s a sick and twisted bastard who wants to fuck his baby brother so badly it’s turned to need, so badly his body aches endlessly for him.

 

They stare at each other, uncertain. Dean knows he should tell Sam to get off him but he doesn’t want him off. He wants him lying exactly where he is, with less clothing and more pressure. Much, much more pressure.

 

He wants to be crushed by his brother’s weight. Wants to be consumed in the heat of his body, the hot slick flesh of him sliding against his own in desire.

 

But that’s wrong.

 

Sammy wouldn’t want that, could never want that. He might go along with it because he’s the baby brother, because he worshipped Dean at one time. He would hate him in the end though, when it was all over he’d hate Dean with every fiber of his soul.

 

xXx

 

Sam makes quick work of excusing them, as Jess walks in. How’s he suppose to explain the way he doesn’t want to leave his brother’s body? Or his hesitance to do anything other than stare at him?

 

It isn’t that he doesn’t want Jess to know Dean, or Dean to know Jess. He just doesn’t want to share his brother right now. After too many years of silence, he’s ready to be selfish.

 

XXx

 

“It’s been a long time,” Sam says, following Dean outside.

 

“Yeah,” Dean says, nodding. “It has.”

 

“You should have called though. I might have hurt you,” Sam starts. But Dean doesn’t let him get very far. His brother’s thoughtless comment draining him of any emotions other than pain and anger.

 

“Would you have answered?” Dean interrupts, his tone empty of _any_ emotion. They both knew he was right. Every time he’d tried to call his baby brother he’d gotten voicemail. That was the only part of Sam he had left.

 

_It’s not like I want to be here_ , Dean thinks bitterly, biting hard on his lower lip to keep those words from spilling out with enough force that he splits his lip. He wants Sammy to hurt like he hurts, but he can’t bring himself to do it. To hurt his brother. He doesn’t want to. He wants him to be happy. But why couldn’t Sammy be happy with him? What had he done to push him so far away?

 

xXx

 

Sam stares down at Dean, knowing his brother is right but what can he say? He didn’t answer, didn’t pick up those calls because it hurt too much to hear his voice.

 

He listened to the voicemails, saved them for the time when Dean stopped leaving messages and then stopped calling all together. Over three years had passed without a single call from him. His own fault, he knew. But it still hurt.

 

It all hurt.

 

Dean releases his lower lip reluctantly, letting Sam see the force of his silence. Dean hurt himself to keep Sam happy, to avoid hurting him. Like always. The irony of this isn’t lost on Sam. He feels a wave of nausea, of guilt hit him hard in the gut. He’s doing this; _he’s_ hurting his big brother. The big brother who has done so much for him, has done everything for him.

 

_I’m sorry_ , is what he wants to say. What he wants to whisper over and over again, begging for Dean’s forgiveness. His brother won’t accept and he knows it. He doesn’t deserve it anyway.

 

Sam reaches over before he can stop himself and lightly brushes his thumb along Dean’s lower lip in a silent apology. Dean stands there for a moment, letting Sam touch him and then he turns his head away, his body ridged.

 

Sam lets his hand drop, already missing the feel of Dean. It’s been four years since he’s seen his brother, since he’s been able to touch him. Four years feels like an eternity, Jess or not. He needs Dean.

 

“It doesn’t matter Sam. You had a decision to make and you made it.”

 

“I didn’t-“Sam swallows hard, not sure what to say; how to tell him why he really left.

 

How does he tell him he left because he wanted, needed, loved Dean _too_ much? It isn’t just about wanting an education, a different life. If that was it, this would be so much easier, but it isn’t. This is about being a fucked up and twisted baby brother who wants nothing more than to have his older brother buried deep inside of him.

 

“Forget it. I only came here because I need your help. I haven’t asked you for anything Sam. I stayed the fuck away from you like you wanted but now dad’s missing and I can’t find him on my own.”

 

“You can.”

 

“Maybe I don’t want to,” his brother admits, turning his gaze to focus on something beyond Sam as he leans back against the hood of the Impala. “If Dad’s hurt…if he needs help, I need you.”

 

It’s Sam’s turn to look away now, his heart sinking with his brother’s words. _If Dad’s hurt…if he needs help, I need you_. Not I need you, not I missed you, but if Dad needs help then Dean needs him. But only then, right? It’s all for Dad, as usual. Dean’s whole fucking life has been about Dad and Sam’s should have been too, if either one of them had had a say in it.

 

“Why?” he asks bitterly before he can stop himself. He knows that Dean will pick up on that bitterness. And Dean has two ways of dealing with it, he can either call Sam out on it right now and tell him that he left them or he could ignore it and move on like everything else.

 

“Because you’re the only one I can go to.”

 

“What about Bobby? Or some other contact of his. I’m not the only one you can go to.”

 

xXx

 

Fuck. Sam really wants him to say it. To admit that he’s missed his baby brother. But he’s not ready to do that. That’s opening himself up for too much pain, when Sam’s been avoiding him for years.

 

If Sam had answered, just once, maybe he could tell him that he’s so happy to see his brother, that he’s about ready to cry. Maybe he could tell him that he’s so happy to see his brother, that he’s feeling _right_ for the first time since Sam left. Maybe he could tell him that he’s so happy to see his brother, that he’s afraid he’s dreaming.

 

But he’s not going to tell Sam anything, not anything Sam wants to hear anyway.

 

“You wanted me to stay away from you, and I did, Sam. So why don’t you return the favor and help me find Dad.”

 

“I never said I wanted you to stay away from me, Dean.”

 

“When your brother stops answering his phone or returning your calls, the message is pretty clear,” Dean snips.

 

“I’m sorry,” Sam says in defeat. “I just didn’t want to hear the disappointment in your voice. I didn’t want there to be a reason to leave.”

 

“A reason to leave? What are you talking about?”

 

His heart slams against his chest, clawing desperately in an attempt to escape. Sam doesn’t want to talk to him because he doesn’t want a reason to leave? Does that mean there’s something Dean could do or say to keep him with him now, to make him forget Stanford and Jessica?

 

“Like I needed to feel any guiltier than I already do.”

 

“I wasn’t calling to make you feel guilty,” Dean argues.

 

“It was you. I owe you everything, how could I not feel guilty?”

 

Dean snorts. “You’ve got too much of a conscience Sammy; it’s going to get you in trouble one day.”

 

xXx

 

Sam wishes that Dean was right, but he’s not. He’s afraid that his conscience isn’t enough. That, now, after he’s finally gotten Dean back into his life, he won’t be able to control himself or listen to what little conscience he has left. His brother’s pull is too strong.

 

“I can’t do it, Dean. I’ve got a life here,” he forces himself to say. He doesn’t want to lie to Dean, he wants to leave with him, but he can’t. He’s not strong enough.

 

xXx

 

_When I leave here I'm going alone_

 

Dean stares at Sam in shock. “You’re serious? You’re not going to help me find Dad, you’re not even worried about what could have happened?”

 

He knows that Dad and Sam have exchanged words. More than once. But he never imagined his younger brother could hate their father so much that he’s not willing to leave his _normal_ existence and look for him. Not willing to do this one thing for Dad, for _Dean_.

 

 

xXx

 

_But I'm dying, I'm dying to touch_

 

Sam’s stomach turns at the disgusted look his brother’s giving him. He wants to explain it to Dean, to make him understand that this isn’t about hating Dad or Dean, but loving Dean too much.

 

He wants to make Dean see that he’s not selfish and distant because he wants to be, but because he has to be. So he doesn’t answer. He lets Dean draw his own conclusion, and hopes that his brother still loves him the best he can.

 

xXx

 

 

_And it's not like, it not like it hurts much anyway_

 

Dean shakes his head in disbelief and gives a shrug of his shoulders. There’s nothing he can do to change Sam’s mind or his feelings. There’ve been too many mistakes made, too many words said, and even more that haven’t.

 

He knows some of this is his fault, more is Dad’s.

 

Blaming Dad or taking the blame his self isn’t going to change anything though, and he knows it. Sam’s made a decision and that’s the end of it.

 

“Okay, Sam. If that’s how it’s going to be.”

 

Dean pushes away from the Impala and makes his way towards the driver’s side. He’s hoping Sam will change his mind, will say something, anything. But he doesn’t and he climbs into the Impala with a heavy heart.

 

He hesitates, wondering if he should really leave. Or push.

 

Sam had always pushed him, why shouldn’t he do the same?

 

Instead he leans across the seat and waits for Sam to lean in the window, a sad look on his face that surprises Dean and encourages him to make his next move.

 

“I love you, Sammy.”

 

Sam blinks and then shakes his head, “What?”

 

Dean ignores him and leans forward, pressing his mouth to Sam’s in a kiss that borders on sordid.

 

But he doesn’t care. This is the last time he’ll see his brother, and he wants Sam to remember it.

 

It’s not like it hurts anyway.

 

xXx

 

Dean pulls back too quickly for Sam to tangle his fingers in his brother’s short hair. Too quickly for Sam to do much of anything other than shudder with pleasure, and return Dean’s tender stroke of the tongue.

 

“I love you too,” he finally murmurs as Dean settles himself back in the seat. A picture he’s seen a thousand time over, but never gets tired of seeing.

 

His mouth is full and red from the kiss, the only thing new about him.

 

About them.

 

Sam’s been dying to do that, to kiss and touch Dean, since he was sixteen. And now he has.

 

Now he regrets telling Dean he can’t leave with him, regrets the fact that he regrets it. Because maybe there could have been something more, and maybe that was all Dean was ever willing to give. But he’ll never know, he realizes as Dean starts the Impala. His moss green eyes staring straight ahead, already dismissing Sam.

 

He straightens and watches as his older brother drives away, his last chance at something, what he doesn’t know, fading with light of the Impala’s taillights.


End file.
